


Utopia

by turnedherbrain



Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Future, Missing Scene, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:43:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnedherbrain/pseuds/turnedherbrain
Summary: Organic, synthetic – we’re all human. Maybe we are different in what’s under our skin. But that doesn’t make us so different. What truly binds us is our humanity.My headcanon for a missing scene in 3.02.Spoilers for s3 eps 1 and 2 :)





	1. Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mattie, Leo and Mia help Max. Basically because I want Maxie to be OK, with his family’s support. It got kind of emotional. And it doesn’t exactly fit the episode’s timeline: Mia just had to be there in the fic :)
> 
> Also, there’s some Leotilda... you know me. 
> 
> And then I added a future vision of how an organic-synthetic peace might look, because that’s what Max would love to happen.

‘How are you feeling today?’ asked Mattie, realising her question was redundant as she watched Leo swing unsteadily to an upright position.

‘Ummm. Like I’ve been drinking for five days straight, I can’t remember what I did, and I’ve just woken up with a hangover in the inner circle of hell,’ Leo replied, sarcastic humour fully back to life. He instantly proclaimed his point by moving like a sailor just returned to port, stumbling haphazardly to the washstand in the corner of the room.

Mattie did what she’d done for so many days during Leo’s hoped-for recovery. She adjusted the blinds, allowing the stark daylight to filter through and break up the darkness with bold shafts of light. Although now, it was different. Now, Leo had revived, and was talking to her. Yet now, she was temporarily lost for words.

Through the slatted blinds, Mattie spotted a lone figure out in the yard. Walking in a jagged slant, then slowly, slowly, like a puppet in slow motion, slumping doll-like on the concrete, not caring who came to look upon it.

‘Leo.’ said Mattie, trying to stop the panic from rising in her voice. ‘It’s Max.’

Peering through the window, breathing ‘Maxie’, Leo’s momentary grogginess vanished as they rushed outside, both breaking into a run to rescue the collapsed form of Max. Leo, despite his recent Lazarus-like reawakening, came to Max’s side first, motored there by his concern. He held on tenaciously to his brother as they half-walked, half-dragged Max back inside, into the relative calm and seclusion of the recovery room.

Manoeuvring him onto the narrow bed, Max’s head on his shoulder, Leo stood stoical by his side. Despite his own frail state, he was careful not to move, to dislodge the hold he had, knowing that Max was likely to subside. Mattie partially closed the blinds once again, until they were in a semi-dark state of solitude.

Mia had entered silently, without them being aware, and she moved to cradle Max too, until her’s and Leo’s arms were interlinked in a steadfast embrace of their brother. Hidden between his siblings, Max allowed himself to give in to grief, his blue-tears falling like drops of conscious feeling in the midst of their familial cocoon.

Mia began to rock him gently, like a mother with a child. She used all her store of strength to hold him upright, sensing that Leo’s own strength was fading and he was holding on with sheer force of will.

‘Don’t be afraid to cry,’ murmured Mia. ‘Remember, we are human too.’

They stayed like this, slightly swaying but secure, allowing Max to emotionally recharge in the comfort of their entwined embrace.

Mattie stood still, observing this tableau. If _anyone_ doubted synth humanity; if _anyone_ dared to suggest they were mere machines with a patina of feeling… she would call them to look upon this scene.

In that moment, despite the guilt weighting her like an invisible chain, she knew that she had been right to give synths feeling: to make them human. For grief had its counter-balance in love.

…

Eventually, they broke apart. Max laid down on the bed that Leo had recently vacated, needing his own time to convalesce. Shortly afterwards, Mia ushered them outside, whispering in the semi-dark that she would take watch first, and that Leo should rest.

In the quiet of the outer room, they were suddenly subdued, conscious of the situation and of being alone together again.

‘Do you think he’ll be OK?’ Mattie asked. She had never experienced that depth of grief before. Had never lost someone so dear to her, except nearly, when…

‘In time,’ said Leo, standing more firmly now, like the love transmitted between his family had given him new reserves of strength. ‘I can begin to imagine what that’s like…’

‘What?’

‘Losing someone you love.’ The phrase was left hanging between them, needing just one of them to reach out and make that unspoken connection.

Leo looked at her pensively. ‘Mattie?’

‘Yes.’ She was part deep-down embarrassment; even more long-awaited anticipation.

‘My memories. At least, my memories of the time I was under,’ he began.

Mattie’s heart beat in double-time. Her mind accelerated, thinking of all the possible things he might say next.

‘Most of them were of you. Your presence. Your voice.’

‘Do you remember what I said?’ she asked him, excessively nervous.

‘No. It’s kind of confused, nebulous. But I remember that it was your voice, and I remember the tone. And I… I remember your touch. I remember this,’ Leo took her hand gently, and laid it against his cheek. His skin warmed under her touch, and her fingertips tingled with the sudden sensation.

‘I was so scared to lose you,’ stammered Mattie, as they took that tender next step, the space in between them diminishing to nothing. They held on to one another, creating their own cocoon: emotional protection against everything to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are deliberate reversals of the following ‘Humans’ scenes:  
> \- The scene in 2.07 when Max picks Leo up off the ground and Leo half-clings onto, half-hugs his brother (plus any other time Max has been there for Leo, to either literally pick him up, or metaphorically support him!)  
> \- The scene in 1.06 when Anita has become Mia again, and her, Max and Leo have the best of family reunion hugs.


	2. Future

The members of the tour party had kept quiet on the sky train, in silent awe of the harmony here. They saw couples strolling below, enjoying Sunday afternoon sunshine. Synth-human, synth-synth, female, male: an intermingling of each species and gender that appeared, from the confinement of their carriage, to co-exist with one another without rancour or fear.

Their guide, a tall young man, noticed every slight look. He’d led tours here for nearly two years now, slowly paying his way through grad school. And on each one, on each and every one, he knew what he would be asked. He could predict, to an _nth_ degree of certainty, the first question, and the last. He was well-rehearsed in his responses, and left them with that all-important conclusion: that challenge to their rigid, human-only ways.

Look, he wanted to shout right now. Look how we live! Look at us, synthetic and organic humans mixed. It can work. It _does_ work. Put down your prejudice; discard your righteousness. _This_ is utopia.

The sky train stopped and the guide; messy, dark hair giving away his organic human origin, led them through the town. The carefully corralled newcomers took in every sight with fascinated awe. A human nanny with a synthetic child. A young woman, gleam of hair swinging, walking jauntily just like a human until she turned, and they caught sight of her green green eyes. Everyone and everything was a wonder to behold. Their eye-screens took in multiple views, and their persona-vids relayed reels of footage.

‘How do you deal with the inter-species issue?’ asked one of the tourists, having taken enough vids to show to their open-mouthed friends back home.

‘We don’t,’ said the guide. There it was. The first question, just as predicted. He let that short phrase dissolve in between them for maximum effect, before continuing. ‘We don’t – because we don’t think of it as ‘inter-species’. Organic, synthetic – we’re all human. Maybe we are different in what’s under our skin. But that doesn’t make us so different. What matters is how we think, how we feel, how we act. What truly binds us is our humanity.’

He stopped then. Any longer, he’d learned from experience, and the tourists’ eyes would inevitably glaze over – it was an alien concept to them.

The group halted below an imposing statue in the central square, its head held aloft, a granite tablet semi-hidden under its arm.

‘My grandmother,’ said their guide. ‘She brokered the peace. Matilda Hawkins? You must have heard of her.’ His audience nodded, impressed. Tell us more, please.

He relished these moments. These times when he could relate, so proudly, a partial history of his family. ‘She always kept her name, even when she married my grandfather. She was like that: strong-willed, independent. A model for women to follow, organic and synthetic alike.’

‘And your name?’ asked the most curious tourist, already pre-forming the story they’d tell on their way home. The grandson of Matilda Hawkins and Leo Elster, no less!

‘Max. Max Hawkins.’

‘Max? Are you named after...’

‘Yes.’ said Max simply, ever more honoured to bear that name. He stood before them, brokering goodwill, as his great-uncle – his namesake – would have done. He addressed them resolutely:

‘I ask one thing of you, before you leave. One thing only. Take these sights back to your own countries. Tell people what you saw. Ask them to spread the message. In the name of peace. Joint peace, for all of human-kind. That is all I ask.’

And the tour group stopped eye-screening and vidding for long enough… just long enough for those words to reach their human minds. Just long enough to make them think of a utopia springing up from the hard soil of their own lands.

They climbed back up to the sky train, Max in their midst. They were somewhat changed by what they had seen.

Even if he had only reached one of them, he thought, that would accumulate.

One plus one plus one plus one plus one plus one... amounted to a whole lot of hope.


End file.
